The braids didn't give him away--many of the warrior caste wore them. Almost all warriors, though, tied theirs with bright beads. Only one used dull, black leather.
Gavril crouched, reaching for something on the ground. When he picked it up, copper glinted in the moonlight. The twice-blessed coin Moria had thrown to him. He shoved it into his pocket. Then he stood and gazed at the sanctuary.
He made a noise, like a grunt of satisfaction, and she knew he'd watched her take the curse to the statue. Had he mistaken her for Moria? Thinking she'd slunk back to discard it in private, like a coward? Ashyn was ready to stride out and disabuse him of any such notion. Then Tova brushed her hand, and she looked down at him, his pale fur glowing in the darkness.
There was no way Gavril could have mistaken her for her sister. So why did he seem pleased that the curse was discarded?
She shook off the thought. Moria always said that there was no use trying to make sense of anything the young Kitsune did.
As Gavril crept away, Ashyn took one last look at the sanctuary. She'd gotten rid of her sister's curse. Was she too late?
She whispered her question to the spirits. They didn't answer.
At dawn, Ashyn met with the rest of the Seeking party--the governor, the healer, four guards, and six villagers who'd volunteered. The party gathered by the first tower, a wooden structure as tall as four men, yet still not cresting the forest's trees. The top was open to the elements, so as not to impede the vision of the warrior within as he guarded the sole break in the canyon wall.
Most people in the empire believed that the box canyon explained how the forest had survived the Age of Fire--that the lava had simply run around it. As Ashyn knew from her books, that wasn't true.
When the volcanos erupted, everyone fled or died under the flood of lava. After it cooled and hardened, they returned and found the Forest of the Dead, now ringed by stone, as if some invisible force had shielded it and the lava had flowed upward, forming walls around the wilderness.
Ashyn had always looked on those canyon walls and seen safety. They kept the forest inside. They kept the damned and their vengeful spirits inside. And now, for the first time in her life, she was going inside.
"Everyone comes back."
Ashyn turned to see Moria there, having snuck up unnoticed as the others milled about, preparing to go. Ashyn looked up at Gavril in the tower. Even from that distance, she could see his hawkish gaze fixed on her sister.
"I'm tempted to run into the forest, shrieking and cackling, just to see what he'd do." Moria waggled her foot over an imaginary line. Gavril scowled and turned away to look out over the forest.
"As I was saying, everyone comes back," Moria said. "Every Seeker. Every hound. Every volunteer. Every guard. They do their duty and they return, and all is well. You can't tell me that every Seeker has been perfect. They must make mistakes. It doesn't matter. I'm not even sure if the rituals matter at all. It is a kindness to the spirits of the damned, but would they truly rise up and attack? If it's never happened before, I'll wager it can't."
"Don't be blasphemous, Rya."
"If you don't fret, I'll not say scandalous things." Moria paused. "Which would be rather difficult, but since I'm quite certain you'll never stop fretting, I do believe I'm safe."
Ashyn threw her arms around her sister so abruptly that Moria let out a yip of surprise. Ashyn smiled and hugged her until that rigid steel melted and Moria embraced her, whispering, "You're ready, Ash. I know you are."
Ashyn hung there feeling her sister's arms around her, wishing she didn't have to leave. Then the governor cleared his throat, and she opened her eyes to see her father, back by the path's edge, waving that Ashyn needed to go and Moria needed to come back.
"Off with you, then," Moria said as they parted. "Tova? Watch out for her. Or I'll set Daigo on you."
Ashyn wasn't sure which beast looked more affronted. She managed a laugh, pushed her sister toward their father, and joined the party as it headed into the forest.
As a Seeker, Ashyn was as much a part of Edgewood as the village wall, and no more able to leave. Yet she read books from every part of the empire. She knew what a forest ought to be like. There ought to be burbling streams and twittering birds. Rabbit and deer tracks should crisscross every path. If you were lucky--and quiet--you might catch a glimpse of a wolf or a wildcat. The air ought to strum with the very energy of life.
There was none of that in the Forest of the Dead. No birds. No rabbits or deer. No wolves or wildcats. Even insects didn't buzz past. She'd heard it was like this, but now, experiencing it was something different altogether.
She gazed up at the trees. They were lush and rich, covered in vibrant green leaves and moss. Yet when she touched one, the bark was as cold and dead as the lava rock of the Wastes.
Some said there was life deep in the forest--twisted life, revealing itself only in a flash of fur or feather or scale. Even when Seeking parties spotted more, they could never quite say what they'd seen. Her sister swore those parties had seen not living things but monsters. Shadow stalkers and death worms and fiend dogs.
Today, Ashyn wouldn't care if her twin spent the whole Seeking tormenting her with stories of monsters. She just wanted her there, at her side. Without her, Ashyn felt smaller. Weaker.
Tova bumped her hand, as if to say, I'm still here.
"Yes, you are," Ashyn said, smiling as she patted his head.
She took a deep breath and continued into the forest.
Four
They were heading into the true forest now, beyond the second tower. As the trees closed in around them, Tova whined. Ashyn put her hand on his massive head. Normally that was enough to calm him, but his whine grew steadily louder until the governor glowered back at her.
"Silence your cur, girl," he said. "Or he'll bring the forsaken on us."
Ashyn bristled. Tova was a Hound of the Immortals, almost as much a creature of legend as those in her sister's tales. Raised in a secret location and given only to Seekers, a Hound of the Immortals lived as long as a human and was said to be the reincarnation of a great warrior from the First Age. Clearly not a cur.
Moria said the governor saw them as threats. He was a highborn warrior--tattoos covered him from neck to foot, leaving only a bare strip down his chest. The girls were merchant-born, which would place them in the lowest caste, except that caste laws did not apply to the Seeker and the Keeper. Moreover, Ashyn and Moria had a direct connection to the only force in Edgewood that superseded the governor--the spirits of the ancestors.
Still, Ashyn wasn't convinced of any ill will on the governor's behalf. Yes, he was brusque and sometimes rude. But he treated everyone that way. He was simply not a happy man, growing old and realizing he'd never be more than governor of this empire-forsaken outpost.
Ashyn was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't notice when Tova blocked her path--not until she stumbled over him, landing on all fours on hard earth. Before she could rise, the hound grabbed the hem of her cloak and yanked. Her limbs shot out and she was suddenly facedown on the ground, being dragged back along the path.
She sputtered a laugh and twisted to see the governor bearing down on them. He was not laughing.
"This isn't the time for play," he said.
"I know. I'm sorry. The forest is making him uneasy."
Tova's snort denied the charge. Legend said that bond-beasts could speak to the Seekers and Keepers, but it wasn't true. It was simply that, having been with Tova almost since birth, Ashyn could read her Tova as well as she could read her twin sister.
When she turned back to the forest, Tova raced into her path and planted himself there again. He lowered his head and a noise bubbled up from his deep chest. It took a moment for Ashyn to realize what the noise was. Tova was growling. At her.
Something's wrong here.
She rubbed down the goose bumps on her arms. Tova whined in apology. When she moved forward, though, he stayed in her path. She stepped
left. He lunged to block.
"Bring him to heel," the governor said.
A Hound of the Immortals did not obey commands like a common dog. Ashyn would never dream of giving him one. Instead, she knelt, coming to eye level with him.
"I need to go into the forest, Tova. No matter how horrible it feels, this is our job. Our duty. Yours and mine."
He laid down in the path.
"Tova, please."
Again he whined in apology. But he would not move.
"Faiban," the governor snapped. "Help the girl move her dog along."
The young guard looked at Tova and shook his head. "It's a Hound, sir. We aren't to interfere."
The governor strode forward. Tova stayed where he was, growling. The governor grasped Ashyn's elbow. He only seemed to be trying to get her attention, but he startled her and she yelped. Tova sprang and his teeth clamped on the governor's arm.
The governor reeled back. His sword arm swung up, as if in self-defense. The blade flashed. Tova let out a howl and dropped.
Ashyn saw the governor pull back his sword, his eyes wide with shock. Blood flecked from the blade and oozed from Tova's rear leg. Ashyn crouched beside him. The sword had cut to the bone. Someone pressed a scarf into her hand. She looked up to see the village healer.
"Thank you," Ashyn said.
Healer Mabill helped her bind Tova's leg. Tova tried to walk but lurched and whimpered until Ashyn made him stop, and he collapsed at her feet.
"I need to take him back," Ashyn said. "He'll be fine tomorrow. Hounds heal quickly." Even as she spoke the words, she knew what the others would say.
"We can't delay the Seeking, child," Healer Mabill whispered. "It always takes place on this day, when the veil between the worlds is thin. Someone will need to go back for help while we push on."
Ashyn wanted to argue. Moria would snarl and spit like her wildcat. That's why she was the Keeper, and Ashyn the Seeker. Like Tova, Ashyn's world was ruled by duty. That duty lay with the spirits waiting for peace.
"I'll run for help," Faiban said. "I'll tell them to come for the hound, then rejoin the search."
The governor shook his head. "We need all the guards." He turned to the bard, who'd joined the group to soothe their difficult task with music. "You go. Hurry to the village and then run back to us."
The bard--a portly man who likely hadn't run in twenty summers--stared at the governor.
"We can spare you," the governor said. "If you do not go, we must bind the hound and hope someone in the village hears its howling. I know the Seeker would not want that."
The bard nodded with some reluctance and took off back toward the village as fast as his thick legs would carry him.
Ashyn tried simply to leave Tova on the path. But as soon as she'd start walking away, he'd limp after her. So, for the first time in his life, he had to be bound. Ashyn knelt and explained it as she tied him, but he kept lunging against the rope until he collapsed in pain and exhaustion.
Even then, Ashyn looked back to see him trying to crawl after them, and it took Faiban and another guard to keep her moving forward. When he began to howl, the tears started.
"He'll be fine," Faiban whispered. "He's a good, strong dog. But we can't do this without the Seeker."
Duty over self. The spirits over Tova. She only hoped he understood.
It wasn't long before the forest was so thick that Faiban had to walk ahead of Ashyn and let the other guard follow her. Although they could still hear Tova's howling, the path was nearly gone. That's when one of the rear guards took out the spool of red ribbon and tied the end to a tree.
Without a ribbon, it would be nearly impossible to find the way out. Until now, Ashyn hadn't fully understood that. It always had seemed odd that so few of the damned ever managed to find their way back to the village. Now, surrounded by endless trees, she understood.
Most exiles never traveled far from the marked place where they were always left. That made Ashyn's job easier. It would take all day to reach that spot, though, even with guards at the fore, hacking through saplings and vines.
While they wouldn't want a road to lead exiles out, it made little sense to cut an entirely new path each spring. They all knew that. So, too, had the first governor of Edgewood. The tale of the path was one of Moria's favorites, and Ashyn could hear her voice telling it as she walked.
The governor had sent extra guards on a Seeking to prepare the path properly. They'd made it wider and laid out the discarded branches and vines to keep down new growth. That way, the path would last for many summers. But by the time the Seeking party headed out the next spring, the forest had swallowed the makeshift lane entirely.
The governor had not been a man accustomed to having his will thwarted, even by nature. So he'd asked his warlord to provide men to clear a path as wide as a road. The village guards watched from the tower as the passage was cut until the party could no longer be seen. The next day, one of the men came racing back along that path, gibbering nonsense.
Certain the man had swamp fever, the governor quarantined him and sent a search party after the others. But the man soon recovered and told his tale. They had been working on the road, and he'd been sent back to camp for water. When he'd returned, he'd looked ahead to see the men hacking through the forest. Then, without even a change in expression, they'd turned and begun hacking one another, as calmly and diligently as if they were still chopping trees and vines.
The man had run to his fellow workers, screaming for them to stop. They hadn't uttered a sound, just kept chopping at one another, stone-faced.
Eventually the search party returned to report the scene exactly as the survivor had described it. The governor declared it had been a mass outbreak of swamp fever. However, in light of the tragedy, there would be no more attempts to create a permanent road. And so the forest swallowed their work, leaving only the initial stretch.
Ashyn looked out ahead, thinking of that worker and what he'd witnessed. She started to shiver.
"Are you cold, my lady?" Faiban asked.
She managed a smile for him. "Unsettled."
"The forest does that," he said, nodding sagely, though she knew he'd never passed the second tower himself. "Shall I tell you a tale?"
"Can you make it a happy one?"
He smiled, his plain face lighting up. "Of course. I am not your sister. Let me tell you a story of a fair maiden of the North, who tamed a snow dragon. . . ."
At noon, the Seeking party ate, and sent the signal. A few had whispered uneasily when the governor fired the green flare, which meant all was well. The bard had not yet rejoined the party.
At least Tova was fine. Ashyn would know if he wasn't. The hound must have gotten back to Edgewood, and the bard would come panting and wheezing down the path at any moment.
When they finished the noon meal and the bard still hadn't arrived, she did start to worry. But what could happen? Yes, there were vengeful spirits. Yes, there was swamp fever. But it took days for spirits to drive a person mad. And one could only contract swamp fever by drinking contaminated water or being bitten by the infected. The Seeking party had brought its own water, and any infected exiles would have died over the winter. The bard would come soon enough, and if he didn't, then he must have returned with Tova and stayed in the village.
Five
By late afternoon, the Seeking party reached the marked site where exiles were abandoned . . . after their guards had led them there on a circuitous route so they'd think they were farther in. The guards left the exiles under the largest tree in the forest, but the Seeking party could not see it from the ground, and had to send a scout to scale trees as they walked.
While the village volunteers stayed to make temporary camp, the governor waved for Ashyn and the guards to follow him. It was time for the Seeker to begin her work.
With every step, Ashyn's heart beat harder. Tova ought to be here. No matter what the governor said, the Hound of the Immortals was supposed to help the Seeker find
the bodies. Now she was on her first Seeking, without her hound, and if she failed . . .
I won't fail. I must not.
When the governor stopped walking, Ashyn continued past him. Twigs cracked behind her, and she turned to see Faiban following, sword in hand. She smiled at him, and he hurried to get in front of her, murmuring, "Just tell me where you want to go, my lady."
She pointed with another smile and he tripped over his feet to cut her a swath deeper into the forest. Ashyn followed slowly, letting her mind shift to the second world. Since entering the forest, she'd heard no whispers. The spirits of the ancestors stayed out. This was the domain of the damned.
She was here to help them find peace. It sounded like an act of mercy. It was not. The unsettled dead who roamed the forest were dark, demented forces bent on blind revenge against every living thing. They drove the exiles mad, and they made the forest uninhabitable for man and beast. By giving them peace, the Seeker kept their number at bay.
When Ashyn was far enough from the others, she asked Faiban to retreat a little. Once he'd backed down the path, she lowered herself to the ground. The earth was damp beneath her fingers, and she could feel the chill of it seep through her breeches. The air down here smelled fetid as the breeze blew off a nearby bog.
Ignore that. Concentrate.
Ashyn closed her eyes and reached out to the spirits. After a moment, she could feel them pulling at the edge of her consciousness. It wasn't like the gentle plucks of the ancestral spirits; these were harsh, like needle jabs.
She repeated the words Ellyn had taught her.
"I'm here to give you peace," she said. "You want peace."
No, they wanted revenge.
The empire's laws forbade execution, and this was supposed to be a kinder alternative. It wasn't. She stopped herself from imagining what happened to the exiles. No. That isn't right. She took a deep breath and instead let herself imagine it. Let herself feel their pain. Feel their rage.
As she opened herself up to the spirits, she kept repeating her promises of peace. She needed to persuade them that they stood no chance of avenging themselves on those who'd exiled them here, and the best revenge would be the happiness they'd find in joining their ancestors.